


A new adventure

by fighterandall



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: tags will be edited in the progression of the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fighterandall/pseuds/fighterandall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thought she had found a place to recover after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. that nobody knew about. Well, she was wrong, because partners never let partners deal with a holiday mess alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A new adventure

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I think of as my baby. It is situated in my home city Sofia which I have extensive knowledge about, so all the descriptions are pretty accurate. I can't promise regular updates, but I can promise they will be good when they come.

23 December 2014

Sofia, Bulgaria

The keys clicked in their places one by one perfectly except the one on the building door that stuck in the frozen lock. For a second the tall red haired woman halted on the doorstep suspicious of her surroundings, her instincts at the top of her game despite the tiredness in her limbs and the lack of sleep. Her illegally hacked after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fall smart phone showed - 15 degrees Celsius but she could say it was probably around -20 in the wind.

In other words - it was freezing. It reminded her so much of another place. A place she was born at and raised to be what she was. Or at least what they shaped her to be until a little after her 19th birthday. Russia. Same freezing wind. Same cold snow. Pretty much the same bad infrastructure ad narrow streets. And if buildings could be mass-produced... well, if she didn't have extensive knowledge on all Slavic cultures she would be confused in which city she was. Except she wasn't. It would have hurt if she'd still thought of Russia as a home. But for the infamous Black Widow home meant a slightly different thing and it usually wasn't a place.

The apartment was cold. The air from her lungs came out as little white puffy clouds from her red slightly chipped lips while climbing the stairs to the third floor - not too high so she could get away if needed, but not too low so she can see any danger in time. The doorknob made her fingers numb but at least the lock wasn't frozen. Тhe door opened with a slight creaking sound and it made her squint her eyes for a second before entering.

Even her heavy winter boots didn't manage to disturb the peace in the apartment. The first really loud sound she made to announce she was at the small flat was the clatter of the set of keys in the little bowl on the cabinet in the hall. Not letting her eyes drift away from the end of the hall where it split into another small hallway leading towards the kitchen and bedroom and a closed door to the dining room.

Getting out of her boots, Natasha did a quick search of the three rooms. Her fingers twitched slightly touching her hip where her holster usually stood. But since air travel didn't let guns on planes and she wanted to get out of the States as soon as possible after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. ... She let out a breath she knew she was holding since she got off the plane on the airport a two days ago. Two days she spent creating the cover of Elena Petrova - fake identification, driving license with all the important categories like motor bike, car and lorry truck, an impressive, but not too much, resume, with the papers and websites she's worked for - that was the easiest part that with her intelligence took just a few hours in a computer club in Studetski Grad - one of the few districts in Sofia where you can come and go and not be noticed without giving bribes. Hacking was her forte and not many people knew about it, even after the information dump stunt she threw a few weeks ago.

She'd specifically requested for a small apartment in Sofia in Mladost - one of the more quiet districts of the city, where the criminal rate was fairly low. It was well connected both to the center of the city and to the airport and a bus station. And not on the last place - it offered a quick escape from the city. Her building had 8 floors. All her neighbors were either young couples or families with children all of whom she did research on. Better paranoid than dead.

Elena was perfect and just the opposite of suspicious. She was safe. Actually, it was one of her best identities and Natasha could say she had a lot of experience with that. Elena was an American journalist with Bulgarian roots who, after the recent turmoil in the USA has decided to go back to her ancestor's land for a new beginning. it wasn't a complex identity, but it was as close to the truth as possible, therefore, better than most complex ones.

By the time she finished the sweep of the place, all the lights were on and the heating was up and running a little higher than when she came in. It was time to unpack the little luggage she's brought with herself. The contents of the travelling backpack took a little more than five minutes to distribute on one of the shelves in the wardrobe, a few of the hangers in it and a little space in the bathroom for the cosmetics, make up kit and toothbrush. Everything else was replaceable and having new identity meant new choice of clothes, new habits and last but not least - a new hairstyle. Which was really unfortunate since she loved her red hair despite the fact it worked as a reminder for all the red on her ledger sometimes. Standing in front of the mirror, she thought about it. She hadn't been blond for a long time. And maybe contacts. Meeting her own green eyes in the reflection, she decided in a matter of a second - definitely contacts. Probably brown - not too uncommon and not too striking as her green ones. There wasn't a place on earth where she could get them in the middle of the night, so she settled for picking up a box of hair dye and quickly following the instructions on it. Hair was more memorable than eyes and this was precisely why she has arrived at the place in the dark with her red hair covered by a hat. And God, no matter how little she believed in him, knew, that she hated hats.

It was just after midnight when she finished unpacking and dyeing her hair. It was soft, straight and a pretty kind of blonde that suited her pale skin. 

Everything was so calm and quiet as she stood in the middle of the bedroom waiting for the chemicals in the coloring kit to work their magic it almost seemed surreal. And while it was peaceful and nice, it reminded her just how alone she was now.


End file.
